


A Dornish Holiday

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Crack, F/M, Humor, Matchmaker Tywin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea. But now, staring at the hideously gaudy ring glittering on Brienne's finger, Jaime knew for certain that he had fucked up.





	

“Come on Wench!” Jaime had said, “A quick holiday in Dorne to celebrate a job well done,”

Brienne had looked dubious, but Jaime knew he could sway her. It had been a hard two weeks for him and his partner, traipsing through the dank woods of the Riverlands in the search of a missing girl, sleeping in threadbare tents and fighting off bears. A week of sun and sea in Dorne was exactly what they needed. It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea.

But now, staring at the hideously gaudy ring glittering on Brienne's finger, Jaime knew for certain that he had fucked up. For several reasons. One, it was a wedding ring. Secondly, ruby and gold were not Brienne's colours. What she needed was something simple and classic. White gold with diamonds and a sapphire to match her eyes.

The ornate ruby and yellow gold abomination was only a testament to how incredibly pissed he must have been last night. That, and the jack hammer that was currently going off in his head.

Jaime stared transfixed at the ring for a moment, before rolling over and groaning into his pillow. The movement caused Brienne to stir. She blinked awake, paused for a moment, and then leapt out of the bed with a shriek. She tugged the duvet with her, hastily wrapping it around herself to cover her naked body. Jaime, thankfully wearing his boxers, moaned and curled into a ball.

“Jaime,” Brienne hissed, “Jaime!”

Jaime forced himself upright, grimacing at the pounding in his head. The last thing he needed when coping with his new bride was a hangover. Where was the coffee?

“Jaime,” she demanded, “What happened?”

Jaime smirked and raised a lazy eyebrow, “Well, we wake up in bed together, half-” he paused taking in Brienne's bra and panties that were hanging off the crystal chandelier in their hotel suite, “Or, completely naked. Wench, even you must have some idea as to what happened last night,”

“What!” she screeched, “Do you mean we... that we...?”

She sounded so traumatised (and loud, seriously, why did she have to shout?) that Jaime decided to be merciful and stop teasing her.

“No Brienne,” he said gently, “We shared a bed. That's all,”

Brienne sighed in relief and sat down on the bed, causing Jaime to wince as the sunlight blared through the window behind her.

“So nothing happened then?”

“Well,” Jaime said, reaching out for her hand and holding it up to her face, her eyes widening in horror as she took in the monstrosity on her finger, “I wouldn't say that,”

He flinched as Brienne let out a yelp. Fucking brilliant, more shouting. He watched as she sprinted into the bathroom and hurled into the toilet. He couldn't blame her. That ring really was hideous.

When she re-entered, pale and clammy, Jaime shoved a steaming mug of coffee into Brienne's hands and glugged down the contents of his own mug in one gulp. How could Brienne not be more hungover? What was she, twenty? It occurred to Jaime that he didn't even know his own wife's age. He might even be a cradle robber for all he knew.

Actually, if nothing else, that would make annulment proceedings a whole lot easier.

“Listen Wench,” Jaime sat down beside her and wrapped his arm round her shoulders, “There's no need to panic. I will just phone my father and get him to straighten this whole mess out,”

“What? Can he really do that?”

Jaime raised an eyebrow, causing Brienne to blush. Right, stupid question.

She sighed and nodded. “You're right. There's nothing to worry about. You talk to your father, I'm having a shower,”

~

When the family therapist talked about father-son bonding time, weekly meetings in his father's office, being lectured at whilst antique busts of past Lannisters and decapitated stag and wolf heads glared down at him was probably not what they had in mind. Yet Tywin Lannister insisted upon them, if only to have an opportunity to give his son a blow-by-blow account of every way he had disappointed him that week.

Tyrion had been dreading this meeting with his father, along with ever other meeting with his father. Yet, when the time finally came for him to leave, he found himself rooted to his seat.

“What do you mean you accidentally got married in Dorne?”

Listening form the other side of the phone, Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean that I went to Dorne and I accidentally got married,”

“And know you want me to fix it for you?”

“Exactly,”

Tyrion could not help but feel a surge of glee. With Cersei in rehab, he might not be the family disappointment for once.

“May I ask who the young lady is?”

“It's my partner, Brienne. You know, Brienne Tarth?”

Tyrion watched in horror as Twin's face stretched and twisted. For a moment he thought his father was having a stroke, but his hopes were dashed when he realised it was simply his father's attempts at a smile.

“ _Lady_ Brienne?” Tywin asked, causing Jaime to groan. His legacy obsessed father had been throwing prospective brides at him since the age of eighteen. He had been subjected to a never-ending parade of Martells, Tullies, Tyrells and Starks. Thankfully, his father drew the line at Freys.

“Yes father, Lady Brienne Tarth,”

“The daughter of Lord Selwyn, the Evenstar of Tarth?”

“Yes father, that Brienne Tarth,”

“You are not having the marriage annulled,”

“What?” Jaime demanded.

“The Tarths are one of the oldest families in Westeros, and the Island has been the sixth most popular tourist destinations for the last five years,”

“Even so, I can assure you, she is _not_ what you want from a wife for me,”

“Is she your sister?”

“No,”

“Good enough,”

“What, just like that?”

“Well, what's her hip size?”

Jaime spluttered “I don't know!”

“Is she fertile?”

Jaime groaned into his pillow. “I would presume so,”

“Alright, I will just have a look at her medical records,”

“What? Father you can't do that...” he trailed off and sighed. Tyrion smirked, of course he could.

“Listen to me,” Jaime growled, “Brienne is not a baby-making machine,”

“She is if I say she is,”

Jaime face-palmed and tried changing tactics. “Father, we got married in a casino in Dorne by a Blue Bard lookalike. We then had our wedding reception on the floor of our hotel room and ate Pentoshi take-out with our bare hands. That is hardly an appropriate wedding for a Lannister,”

“Hardly,” Tywin agreed, “Instead you eloped to Winterfell and were married in a Godswood. When you return you shall have a blessing in the Great Sept of Baelor followed by a reception in the Great Hall in the Red Keep. Or would you prefer the Queen's Ballroom. It would seat less people but if we restrict your guest list to two friends each, we may be able to fit everyone inside. I shall have your Aunt Genna begin plans immediately,” 

“Can I be the best man?” Tyrion asked.

“Tyrion wants to know if he can be your best man,”

“No he cannot be my best man,” Jaime snapped.

“Probably wise, Seven knows what kind of Stag Party he shall arrange for you,”

Tyrion scowled. “Well, it can hardly be more catastrophic than the wedding, can it?”

“Tyrion cannot be best man because there will not be a wedding. Brienne and I are having an annulment, with or without your help,”

Tyrion gulped and shrank back into his seat as the grin slipped off Tywin's face and was replaced with something far worse. It was the same look a lion had right before he sunk his claws into the hind of a baby antelope and ripped open it's throat with his teeth. Not for the first time, Tyrion found himself wondering if Tywin had taken down the animals who's heads graced the walls of Casterly Rock with his bare hands.

“No, you are not. It is high time that you settled down. With Cersei in rehab and Tyrion being Tyrion (“Hey!”) I will not have this family's name disgraced anymore than it is already. I can assure you Jaime that no lawyer nor judge will touch your case with a barge pole, all it takes is a few phone calls. You will remain wed and you will attend the ceremony in the Sept,”

“Or what?” 

“I will phone Barristan Selmy and have you both fired,”

“Barristan won't do that, he is an honourable man,”

“He's also mortal,” Tyrion called, noting with slight horror that Tywin didn't even bother to correct him.

Tywin smiled once more, causing Tyrion to shudder. Was it normal to bare that many teeth when smiling? Surely a smile shouldn't cause one to resemble a shark.

“Well?” Tywin asked.

There was a silence as Jaime contemplated his options.

“Damn you Father. Damn you to the Seven Hells,” Jaime cursed before hanging up.

Tywin placed the phone back onto his desk and sat back in satisfaction.

“So,” Tyrion chimed, “I suppose I had better start planning his stag-do then? Should I go to Chataya's for his stripper, or should I splash out and jet him out to Lys for an extended weekend?” 

~

“Well?” Brienne asked, stepping out of the bathroom and wrapping herself in her dressing gown, “Did you speak to your father?”

Jaime nodded stiffly, “I did,”

“And?” 

“Well, unless you're infertile, welcome to the family!” 

Brienne's freckled face turned white as she collapsed into the nearest armchair. “What?” she whispered faintly.

“My father wants heirs. Legitimate heirs. Lots. So unless you're infertile, my father won't let us have an annulment,”

“Well then I will just tell him that I can't have kids,”  
“Won't work. He is going to contact your GP for your medical records,”

“What about the Samwellian oath?” 

Jaime shook his head. “Doesn't apply to Lannisters. Congratulations Brienne, you are now officially above the law!”

Brienne slumped forward, burying her head in her hands. Jaime walked over to her and wrapped a comforting arm round her shoulders, giving her as squeeze.

Brienne looked up at him with tear filled eyes. “What do we do now?” 

“Well,” Jaime said, his eyes slipping towards the ring that was resting on the dressing room table, glinting violently in the sunlight, “First we should get you a better ring. How do sapphires sound?” 


End file.
